Time is Pressing
by Exploding Dandelion
Summary: After a run in with the Kraang, Mikey and Leatherhead are left with a strange device. Promising his tech-savvy brother, Don can figure out what it does, Mikey brings it home. But not even Donnie could have predicted he'd turn into a toddler. Now time is ticking for the turtles and Leatherhead to fix the device and set things right before their family unravels.
1. Impatience

**_Another new story, although ti won't be as long as some the other one is. I'm excited to write it, more so now that the new episodes have begun. I'm not sure who I want to be the second main character, so Michelangelo is tentative, but still likely. _**

**_Set in 2012 universe, after Into the Depths (so spoilers ahead for those who haven't seen it!). Some small hints of AprilxDonnie might get squeezed in here. There will likely be a bit of angst and drama. And lots of family, because I love family. More so with these turtles! I estimate this will be about five to six chapters long, depending on how I break them up. _**

**_I think that's it for now, so thank you for reading! I appreciate all the reviews, favorites, alerts, and such, and will reply to them as soon as I am able! Until then, thank you!_**

* * *

"...my friend, are you all right? Michelangelo?" A hand, large and rough with the distinct sewer smell, jostled him by the shoulder. Black was all he could see, his eyelids too heavy and his mind too fogged to connect any thought to action. His body thrummed with pain, straight from the back of his head and down his toes. Another shake from above forced his eyes to flutter. Blue eyes met washed out green, and Leatherhead broke into an uneasy smile.

"Good. You were unresponsive before. I was worried the blast may have hit you after all." Michelangelo blinked several times, squinting at the dripping, curved sewer tunnel until it came into proper focus. Throbbing erupted behind his eyes and he groaned, pressing a hand to his head. He hissed when he brushed a cut on his cheek, a light film of blood streaking dripping from the gash.

"Dude...what happened?" Mikey glanced around, eyes widening when he saw several Kraang bots in a heap nearby. Limbs were torn from the shells, metal shards and shavings littering the ground. "I mean, things were going all right, then these guys just come in and BAM. No manners."

Mikey missed the concerned look on Leatherhead's face, as well as the slur to his own words. Mikey's head still ached and he felt oddly tired, even as he forced himself to sit up. He reached for the memories, details of the fight swirling through his head like blurred lights on a freeway. He could see himself fighting, kicking and flipping his way through the Kraang, but how they came to find him and Leatherhead escaped his mind. Then an image of Leatherhead swam to his thoughts, surrounded by the droids as they took aim with some machine. Mikey's heart skipped, his body moved, a flash-

"But that light."

"You were not hit. I made sure of that. I feared one of them had still managed to-"

"What, no!" Mikey shook his head, his brain rattling. "They were aiming for you, dude! Did you get hit? Did you check? Did you shrink? Turn into-"

"Please look at me, Michelangelo. I'm perfectly all right." And Mikey did look at Leatherhead, the gator towering over him. Aside from the old scars and tears to his skin, Leatherhead did seem unharmed. Heart still skipping uncomfortably at the close call, Mikey stood, ignoring the way he stumbled. Leatherhead turned to the Kranng's shells, his eyes turning cold. "And I think I found what they were trying to hit me with during your visit."

Mikey tilted his head, still trying to rein in his thoughts while Leatherhead dug into the pile of metal and pulled out a small, box shaped contraption. Mikey's eyes widened and he zipped over to Leatherhead, sliding his finger along the sleek metal side. The familiar pinkish purple light of the Kraang danced in two bulbs fastened at the top, and there were several buttons along the right side, covered y a thick plastic casing. The urge to press one immediately hit him, but the casing protected both the device and Mikey.

"They seemed rather...intent on making sure we couldn't access this right away."

"I wonder what it does! And why they want to use it on you." Mikey worried his lip, glancing at Leatherhead before breaking into a grin. "But I bet Donnie can figure it out! He's great with all kinds of tech and stuff like that. And he'll have _me_ to help him." Mikey slid the device out of Leatherhead's hands, holding it toward his chest. "So I'll take this and make sure the Kraang can't get it. And figure out what they're trying to do. Well, Donnie will, anyway."

"Donatello. He is the one I..." Leatherhead trailed off, eyes growing sad. The bouts of anger left his memory during his time with the others fuzzy, but he could recall brief flashes of the tall, lanky turtle in his grip. By the head. And the absolute fear toward the end when they have recovered the power source was fresh and clear.

Mikey saw the worry in Leatherhead's face and shook his head, waving it off. "You worried about that? Pssh, Don's made of stronger stuff. You just startled him." Leatherhead shot him a flat look and Mikey shrank a bit. "Okay, so maybe he's a little scared of you. But he'll still help. He knows you're a good guy. And he loves it when he gets to look at tech like this. So relax." Seemingly set, Michelangelo rolled his shoulders before tucking the device safely under his arm. His eyes remained lightly glazed, not quite focusing on what was around him.

"My friend, perhaps it would be wise to wait a few more moments. You did hit the ground rather hard."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm fine! My head's pretty thick. I mean-wait a sec." Mikey scrunched his face. "Well, you know what I mean. I'm okay. I'll be back soon, so just lay low. Maybe find a new tunnel to stay in for a while in case these guys decide to make a second visit." With a final wave Mikey disappeared into the shadows, his laughter still echoing down several tunnel lines.

Leatherhead waited until the faint sound stopped before nodding to himself, shoulders relaxing slightly. A small smile flitted across his face, eyes calming. "Michelangelo...thank you."

He stood a little straighter and started down the tunnel, the idea of a new hiding spot sounding better by the second. High-pitched chattering caught his attention and he looked down, spotting a small, baby rat squirming with some loose newspaper. Kneeling down, Leatherhead scooped the young rat up in his hand, watching the beady eyes widen. "Now where is your mother, young one?" Leatherhead cradled it to his chest and started walking again, finding it odd that there was only one baby rat nearby.

* * *

Donatello held his breath, holding the tweezers mere centimeters from the wiring of the his personal T-phone. His heart drummed against his rib cage the closer the tweezers came to the familiar red wire that triggered the self-destruct, imagined or not. One mistake in modification could trigger the explosion and he would have to start from scratch.

Again.

And the blue wire was in his sights. All he had to do was pull it closer to the front and he could splice it open. _Just do it. Just reach in there...that's it. Just grab it with the tweezers and pull-_

"Donnie! Donnie!" Don's hands shook violently as Mikey threw the door to the lab open, and the tweezers tangled with the wires within. Don winced at the click he heard within the phone and ducked behind his desk, covering his head. Several long seconds passed and Mikey eventually said. "Um, what are you doing?"

Feeling a twitch forming behind his right eye, Don sighed and whipped around at Mikey. "Do you realize what you almost did?"

"Almost did? Doesn't that mean I didn't do it?" But Donatello wasn't listening anymore. As the shock of nearly having his phone blow up in his face faded, he stood and got a good look at his brother. His brother who currently had several scrapes and cuts on his arms, a slowly darkening bruise on his head, and a strange mist to his eyes.

"Dude, quit looking at me like that. It's freaking me out."

"Sit, Mikey." Donatello grabbed Michelangelo by the arm and thrust him to the nearest chair, ignoring Mikey's protests as he reached for the nearest first-aid kit. "What happened? Did you get attacked? And why are you running around with a concussion?"

"Aw, c'mon. Don't go all doctor on me, bro. I need you to look at something." Mikey jutted out his lower lip and made his bright blue eyes shine, but Donatello just shushed him.

"Mikey, the only thing I need to be looking at is that bruise on your head. Where are the others? They should have said something."

"They went out scavenging before I even left, Don. See, this is why you need to leave your lab more. You sit here cooped up all day and the world just-ow! Not so hard, it's tender there." Donatello didn't respond, but he was more gentle as he poked around the bruise on Mikey's skull. Donnie grabbed some peroxide and bandages for the cuts, but his eyes stayed on Mikey's head.

"Any memory loss?"

Mikey tilted his head. "Um...no?"

"I'm asking the wrong person about this."

"Wh-what? But who else would you ask?"

Again, Donatello didn't respond, moving back in front of Michelangelo and shining a flashlight in his eyes. Mikey sat in silent awe at how quickly his brother managed to pull out the supplies he needed, and in seconds a few tablets of aspirin were being pushed in his hands. "I'll get some water. Hold on."

"I really need you to look at something-" Donatello disappeared without a second glance. Mikey huffed, kicking his legs and glaring down at the contraption sitting in his lap. "Normally he'd be all over you."

Michelangelo jumped when Donnie appeared in front of him, glancing at the device and swiftly removing it from his hands, placing it on a nearby workbench and forcing the cup of water into Mikey's hands instead. Mikey opened his mouth to argue, but quickly snapped his jaw shut at the harsh and withering look Donatello gave him. He took the medicine without another word, the headache that he had previously forgotten slowly making a throbbing comeback.

"Man, Donnie. You're scary in doctor mode."

"Well, someone has to take this seriously. Do you know how bad it is to end up with multiple concussions in a short span of time while the brain is still developing?" Don sighed, raising an eye ridge. "I mean, I know there's not much hope for you, but I don't want to make it any worse."

"Aw, thanks, bro. I knew you cared about me! I-hey! Wait!" Donnie chuckled, pulling some band-aids and disinfectant from the kit and cleaning a few of the deeper cuts on Mikey's face. Donnie's eyes met Mikey's, watching his face twist from the sting of the chemical. Donnie shook his head while he pulled away and said, "All right, tell me what happened."

Rolling his eyes, Mikey sighed explosively. "I went to visit Leatherhead." Mikey watched the muscles in Donatello's arms tighten, but said nothing. "And when we were talking, some Kraang jumped us. I fought them off, of course. No one can stop the fastest turtle around. Moved over there and they were all like, 'wha?' Well, they looked as confused as a Kraang bot could. And..." He trailed off when Donnie coughed, switching tracks in his story. "But there was so many of them. And Leatherhead was sort of freaking out, and then trying to stop himself from freaking out, so it was sort of hard to fight them off. I mean seriously, waves of them."

"Then, when it seems like we're finally getting somewhere, two of these guys take out that thing." Mikey pointed to the device on Donnie's workbench, and Don's eyes lit up when he saw it. Mikey smirked, glad his brother finally noticed the tech. "And they tried to use it on Leatherhead. I wasn't having none of that and pushed him out of the way. And a few of them jumped me from the side, 'cause they knew it was the only way they'd be able to get a hit in."

Donnie snorted and Mikey glared at his brother. "Please, you know I can take those guys on. So, they don't fight fair. And I hit the ground pretty hard. Knocked me out for a second. Next thing I know, Leatherhead's waking me up and there's a steaming pile of Kraang on the side."

Donatello nodded, leaning on the wall. His eyes drifted to the device, a sort of hunger in his eyes as he studied the tech. Mikey hummed a bit, watching his brother. "I told Leatherhead you'd take a look at it. They were trying to hit him, and just him, with it. They spent a while trying to aim it right. And I figured if anyone would be able to figure it out, it'd be you."

Mikey grinned when he saw Donnie's cheeks darken, pushing himself from the chair. Donatello's eyes snapped to him and he almost pushed Mikey back into the chair, but Mikey side-stepped him, rushing away before Donatello could argue. "Anyway, think you can take a look at it?"

"Of course." Donnie grabbed the chair that Mikey had vacated and rolled it over to the workbench, plopping into it and hovering over the device. Mikey hovered next to him, still humming under his breath as he watched Don take the device in his hands.

Donatello turned it around in his hands, being careful of the casings and bulbs. His eyes narrowed in concentration and he focused on the the bottom, reaching for a screwdriver and popping it open. Strange wires riddled with neon pink light glowed within, and Donnie's eyes widened. Mikey started bouncing where he stood, getting excited at the way his brother looked at the device. But Donatello soon replaced the wire's covering and moved onto separating the casing, sliding a finger over the plastic.

Michelangelo wilted as the minutes ticked by and nothing exciting happened. His eyes roved the other contraptions and inventions in his brother's lab, his hands starting to itch.

"Don't even think about it." Mikey froze in place, eyes sliding to Donatello.

"How do you do that?"

"Years of knowing how you work. I need to get the casing open too. Maybe I can see which wires go where, I can find the one that'll release it. I may just have to force it open though. It'll be too dangerous to screw with the wires without knowing what it does. And look at this."

Donatello flipped the device over, tilting the bottom corner up. A small panel was fastened to the bottom, also covered by plastic. It reminded Mikey of a weight scale, complete with red line going over the numbers. But instead there were strange symbols he didn't recognize. "These are probably the settings."

"And what do they mean?"

"I'm not sure." Donatello said it more to himself than Mikey. He stood from the chair and started toward his room, Michelangelo hot on his trail. Donnie put the device on his desk and started to dig under his bed, pulling out a small and beat up notebook and placing it on the desk. He opened it to a random page, pulling out a pencil and sketching the device out at several angles. Mikey watched him for a bit, but he soon started looking around Donatello's room. His eyes shifted to broken electronics waiting for Donnie to repair them, then to the small beginnings of new projects.

"Please don't touch anything in here either," Donatello said, smiling at the groan he heard from Mikey. He paused in his sketching, looking over at Mikey and biting his lip. "Leatherhead's being attacked a lot down here."

Mike's face darkened and he nodded. "Tell me about it. They know he's done here, and it's hard for a guy that size to hide, you know?"

Donatello nodded, swallowing. Mikey tilted his head to the side as Donatello tapped the notebook with his pencil. "I guess," Donnie said eventually, "we need to find him a safer place to hide. And I know that the two hundred and twenty-third tunnel is really hard to get to with the partially collapsed wall. Hard to see too, because of a mistake when it was constructed. It led to tunnels two-ten and two-eleven instead of two-twenty-four, and it was too late to change it by the time they discovered the mistake. So...that might be a good place to go."

Mikey's face broke into a grin and he hugged his brother from behind, making Donnie splutter. "Mi-Mikey!"

"That's perfect! Thanks, Donnie." Mikey couldn't stop smiling, even when he released his brother. "I knew he'd grow on you."

"As long as he doesn't grab my face again."

Mikey snorted, waving his hand. "Water under the bridge."

Donnie just shook his head, turning once more to the device. "So, when they fired it, did it hit anything?"

"Um...I'm not sure. I didn't see it hit anything." Mikey walked over to the machine and picked it up, making Don squawk.

"What are you doing? We don't even know what it does yet!"

"But that's the point! Maybe if we use it, we'll figure out what it does." Mikey smiled at the the plan forming in his mind, and Donatello felt a sense of dread form in his stomach. "It'll be a lot faster than just making a bunch of sketches."

"Those sketches are to help see its design from all angle To try and add changes without applying them right away, It avoids a lot of potential errors. I'll be doing it for the inside too. And we're not going to use it. What if it's supposed to kill someone instantly?"

Mikey raised an eye ridge. "But wouldn't they just aim it at all of us?"

Donatello mumbled to himself, "And then there's the matter of the power cell. They wouldn't want to kill the only ones who know where it is."

"See? So what's the problem?"

"It's still not safe, Mikey, that's the problem. Now put it down and let me take a look at it." Michelangelo puffed out his cheeks but handed Donatello the device all the same. Donnie turned the machine on its side so the buttons faced him and reached in the desk drawer for a small needle. He dug it underneath the plastic and pulled until the casing popped open.

"Cool," Mikey whispered, eyes zeroing in on the buttons.

"Just because you can touch them doesn't mean you should." Donatello turned the device over, eyes switching between the buttons and the wiring as he opened the bottom again. "Not all of them lead to the switches. Some are probably for the settings, but I still can't find where to adjust them."

"I still think we should use it. We can skip a bunch of this."

"And what if something bad happens? Just because it can't kill us doesn't mean it won't do something bad," Donnie snapped.

"You're such a worrier. I promise, it'll be fine." Mikey reached over Donnie's shoulder, trying to pry the device from his fingers. Donnie's grip only increased, and he glared at Mikey.

"Don't start, Mikey. This is a very delicate process. You can't just go around and start pressing a bunch of random buttons, hoping it'll turn out all right."

Mikey huffed, putting his weight on Donnie's shoulders. "That's why it worked when we went to hack into the Kraang's computers, and why _I_ was right about which wire to cut on the bomb."

"Dumb luck doesn't replace skill, Michelangelo!"

"I've got plenty of skill!" Mikey took a deep breath and shoved himself forward, knocking the machine from Donatello's hands but failing to catch it in his own. They both yelped, Donnie catching the device in his hands, careful of the bulbs that nearly broke against his chest. Michelangelo took a breath and reached over now that Donnie was distracted, pressing the closest button.

The light bulbs flickered on, the neon pink light dancing inside the glass and creating a current between the two. Donnie shouted, roaring at Mikey but shoving his brother out of the way. The bulbs generated heat against Donnie's chest and he glanced at the panel, watching the dial shake in its place.

Mikey started apologizing, fearing he'd broken the thing before a flash of light blinded both turtles. A blazing wave of heat filled the room and Mikey groaned at the white in his vision, closing his eyes and willing the burning to stop. There was a thud and yelp and Mikey forced his eyes open, vision blurring as he tried to focus.

The device now laid on the floor, the bulbs miraculously in place but several wires hanging out of the bottom. Mikey whipped around to face Donnie in his chair, his heart falling into his stomach.

A tot-sized Donatello stared up at him, rounded face full of fear.


	2. Deterioration

_**Hello! I am so sorry this chapter came so late. School and life are really eating my time up right now, and apologize so much for not getting these out as quickly as before. I hope you'll forgive me! I will try to reply to all messages and reviews within the next couple of days-I just really wanted to get this out, especially after the last episode. How cool was it? **_

_**Also, I managed to fit a bit of a psychology joke in here, for those who can catch it. It'll also hint to Donnie's age range, since I don't think it'll come up. **_

_**But thank you all for reading and supporting this. I appreciate every fav, alert, and review! It really helps to boost my drive, especially reading your guys' comments. Thank you!**_

* * *

Panic.

Michelangelo felt it explode in his head, then smear itself in his chest and stomach. And he was sure panic was throttling him right now too, because he couldn't breathe. He tried, but nothing was working. Not his lungs, not his mouth, and certainly not his eyes. Because his eyes told him that a young Donatello sat in front of him, and that just wasn't happening.

Said illusion continued to stare at Mikey, mouth opened wide in silent horror. Then, he slowly brought his hands up to his face and stared down at the little digits. His gaze traveled up his short arms, then back down to his front. His tiny, toddler front. The purple bandana slipped off his face and fell into his lap, and all that escaped Donatello was an odd, choked sound.

"Okay, Don, I get it. Don't mess with the machine. You can stop being...I don't know, little now. How'd you even do that?" Mikey couldn't keep the tremor from his voice and his smile was crooked. Donatello looked back at Mikey and slowly shook his head, still in a frozen state of terror.

"I-I'm not kidding you. This is my size, this is really happening, and the machine that did it..." Donatello glanced at the device, his heart sinking into his stomach when he saw the torn and frayed wiring. "Is broken." His heart fell into the pits of his intestines, and if he wasn't absolutely horrified, Don was sure he'd be amazed he could still talk.

"Maybe Don was right and I hit my head too hard. Maybe I need a nap. But with concussions you have to be woken up, right? Maybe I can set an alarm. But I never get up when it goes off," Mikey said to himself, dazed. Donatello's head snapped up and he snarled, jumping from the chair and running for Michelangelo's feet. He clung to his brother's ankle and clamped his teeth on the skin, digging his canines in.

Mikey screeched and made to throw Don off, stopping only when he remembered Don's size. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Mikey picked Donnie up under his arms and pulled him up to his face. Don scowled, kicking his feet. "I can't believe this," Don muttered, glaring at his feet.

"Dude...you're really-really a tot," Mikey said, voice in awe.

Donnie sent Mikey a burning look. "Yeah, thanks to _you_. What did I tell you? Now look! I can't-can't-" Donnie trailed off, room tilting to the side. His stomach seized and he jammed his eyes shut, stiffening when Mikey held him close to his chest.

"Whoa there little dude. Don't-I mean, what's wrong? And how can you even talk?"

Mikey's voice was still filled with awe but Donatello barely paid him any mind until the wave of nausea passed. "I don't know why," Donnie said eventually. "And I don't care. I want to be my normal size again, but it's busted." Donnie squirmed in Mikey's arms, glancing at the machine. "And I doubt we have the parts I need to fix it."

"I'm so much bigger than you. Were we really this small when we were little?" Donnie growled when Mikey poked his head, whipping around.

"Would you focus for a second? We have a serious problem on our hands! What if this wasn't the intended function? Then something could seriously go wrong later. Or what if there's some secondary effects. Or, more importantly, how the shell am I supposed to get back to normal!" The last part came as a high-pitched squeak and Donnie wanted nothing more than to crawl into his over-sized covers and die. "I can't believe this."

"H-hey now, come on, little guy." Aware of it or not, watching Donnie's baby face crease with worry had a profound effect on Mikey. Seeing large brown eyes search aimlessly for a solution twisted Mikey's chest and he carried Donatello to his bed, sitting on the mattress and cradling Donnie in his lap. "We'll figure it out, okay? I mean, you're smart. And you still_ have_ your smarts, so we can figure this out."

Donnie still didn't perk back up and Mikey bit his lip, eyes widening at a new thought. "I mean, who else can? Just imagine if it was just me trying to do this. Then you'd really be in trouble."

Donnie chuckled, the sound light and bubbly, making Mikey's heart soar. "Fine, point made. We can do this. It's just...I can't believe it. I'm so small." Don held his hands to his face again, swallowing. "Why would they need something like this? And...for Leatherhead. Oh..." Don't eyes lit up and he put a hand to his chin, narrowing his gaze in thought.

"Oh what?"

"N-nothing yet. I want to think about it some more, before I say anything. Maybe talk with Leatherhead. But how? How? I can't have anyone seeing me like this, can I?"

Don stopped, giving Mikey a dead stare. Mikey had a huge grin on his face, hiding behind his hands and popping out every three seconds, giggling. "What's wrong, Donnie? Can't see Mikey either, huh? Where'd Mikey go? Where'd he go?" Again, Mikey hid behind his hands, and again, popped back out, ignoring Don's increasingly irritated expression. "There he is! Oh, oh, there he goes again." Mikey snorted behind his hands and Don growled.

"Mikey, even if I didn't still have my fifteen year-old brain, I am well past learning object permeance! Stop."

"Object what?" Mikey asked, tilting his head to the side.

Don shook his head, face scrunched in deep thought. Mikey had to resist giggling. Serious Donnie was normal, but serious tot Donnie was adorable. "And I still have all my mental capacities. That just doesn't seem right."

"Are you complaining?"

"No. No, I'm not. But this device...it shouldn't have left me with them. If it was really meant to revert age, it should have taken that away too. I mean, I'd still be smarter than you, but..."

"Hey!" Mikey huffed, but he felt relieved with Donnie taking jabs at him. If Don could do that, he could find a way out of this. "So, how are we going to get you back to normal?"

Donatello's face fell and he looked at the machine on the floor. "I'll have to fix that of course. But, from what I've seen from the writing, I'll need special materials. Probably from the Kraang themselves, and even then, it doesn't look like their normal tech." Don sighed. "If it's special to them, it'll be harder to get a hold of. And substitute materials will likely be incompatible."

Humming absently, Mikey started to play with Donnie's arms, smiling at how small and easy to hold his brother was. "And after that, I'll need to figure out how the settings work. Confirming what the device is for will probably help with that, but really, I can't get anywhere until it's fixed."

Donnie pulled away from Mikey, giving him a flat look. "And stop doing that."

"I can't help it. The big brown eyes just seal the deal! You're so cute!" Mikey poked Donnie's cheek, snatching his finger back when Don tried to bite. "Vicious, but cute."

"I'm serious, Mikey. I need to get those materials."

Mikey's shoulders dropped, head rolling up towards the ceiling. "But you know how hard that'll be? Isn't there something you can do with what we have?"

Donnie rubbed his face, looking over the bed before grabbing the edge and lowering himself to the floor. Scowling once more at his size, he clumsily landed on the ground and trotted to the machine. He knelt beside it, peering inside the wiring and sighing. "Maybe... But it's gonna take time to figure out." Donnie's face hardened and he glanced at Mikey. "If this is going to work, you're going to have to make sure the others don't find out what happened."

Mikey sat up straight at this, eyes widening. "Why not?"

"Because, they'll freak out, want to know what happened, cause a bunch of distractions-and..." Don paused, cheeks warming. "I don't want them to see." Mikey snorted but Donatello plowed on. "And really, I'm worried about what they'll do. They won't want me to be near this thing after what happened and I really don't want to deal with that. The sooner I figure this out, the sooner I can return to normal."

"And you don't want them to see." Mikey grinned, but Donnie gave him a sharp look.

"Just wait till they find out _how_ it happened, huh?"

Skin paling, Mikey coughed into his hand. "So, yeah, I'll try to distract them then. Got it." Donnie had already looked away, picking the machine up and setting it in his lap. It overtook his legs, sitting heavy on his limbs, and he couldn't stop the wince. Mikey watched as Donatello examined the insides, worrying his lip. "And, you know, I could help with that."

"I'd rather not."

Michelangelo stood up and joined Don next to the machine, casting him a sideways glance. He watched his brother closely, poking his cheeks again. "Mikey, what did I say-"

"Your cheeks are still rosy." Mikey shrugged. "Well, as rosy as green gets, anyway. And you feel kind of warm. Too warm."

"Stress does that to a turtle."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Sure, it's fine when you go all doctor-y on us, but when _I _do it."

Donatello only shook his head, gently pulling out some of the wires to examine the thin threads inside. "Listen, I appreciate the offer, Mikey. But the best thing you could do for me is keep the others away. I'll be up for a while working on this, and like I said-"

"No distractions. I hear you." Mikey sighed, leaning closer to Donatello and humming under his breath. Don tilted his head at him, squealing when Mikey's hand lashed out, fingers pinching his cheeks. "You're so small!"

Mikey jumped up dashed out of the room before Donatello could reply, leaving his now much younger brother fuming.

* * *

"And now he's working on...what, the phones again?" Leo pinched the the space between his eyes, Mikey holding his hands up in surrender.

"I know, I know. He's been at it for hours. But you know Don..."

"Yes. What I don't get is why you're helping him. He's been at it since we got home, and that was three hours ago. It's two in the morning, Mikey. Don't you think you should be helping Don get to sleep instead of losing more of it?"

Leo watched Mikey for a long time, his eyes narrowing. "And why are you doing this? Normally you'd be all over trying to disrupt him."

Mikey's heart skipped, mind scrambling for an excuse. "He's blackmailing me!" He blurted before thinking and Leo's face dropped. "Y-yeah, that." Mikey swallowed at Leo's continued silence, glancing at the door and wondering if Donnie had heard him. "So, I gotta do this, you know? Or else he'll wind up telling Raph and then I'll never be able live it down."

"What could you have done that-you know what? No. I don't want to know. But tell Don, blackmail or no blackmail, he needs to get his shell in bed." Leo took on a stern look again, ruined by the smirk that formed seconds later. "And we'll talk about just what this blackmailing consists of later."

Mikey deflated. "Thanks, Leo. Glad to know I always have your support, grin and all." Leo just waved at him, turning away and heading down the hall. When he disappeared around the corner, Mikey looked back at the door, shoulders slumped. "I guess he does have a point. Don't toddlers need more sleep? I need lots of sleep and I'm not even little anymore. And if he doesn't have if figured out now, he won't have it in another hour. Right?"

Mikey continued to reason with himself as he reached for the doorknob. He knew from experience how dangerous Donatello could be when he was interrupted, even more so late at night. And little or not, Don still had teeth and the smarts to strategize with them.

"I'll just...yank him up and hold him away. Then he can't get me. I mean, his arms. So little..." Nodding and chuckling to himself, Mikey pulled the door open, eyes focusing on the only light in the room. Don sat in the center of the floor, his desk lamp shining over the wiring spilling out of the device. A screwdriver held in one hand, Don peered inside the machine. Don's face shone with sweat in the fluorescent lighting, and without his mask, Mikey could easily see the dark bags that hung under his eyes.

"Dude...do you always look like this when you work late?" Mikey's voice didn't snap Donatello out of his fog, the tot easing the screwdriver into the device and pulling up a small, thread-like wire. Mikey narrowed his eyes and walked over to his brother, sitting behind him and peering over his head. Mikey breathed heavily over Don's skin, holding back a giggle. "Watcha doing?" he finally asked.

Again, no answer came. Mikey huffed and slid in front of Donnie, glaring at him. "Earth to Donnie! I know you're shell bent on fixing this, but you need to get to bed. Leo's orders." Donnie simply pulled out another wire and began to inspect the coiling ends. The light played dark shadows on his face and Mikey held back a shudder.

"Mikey's orders?" he tried, poking Donatello's arm. The toddler didn't even blink. Mikey sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "You'd be trying to kill me if I ordered you around like that. But maybe you're just that determined, little bro? Huh?" Mikey smiled. He couldn't get over being able to call Donnie that. "And I've seen you get this way before a few times. Like when you were making that flow chart. But, you still need to get to bed. Okay? So come to big brother Mikey!" Mikey held his arms out, giving Donnie a toothy grin.

Clanking metal parts were Don's only response.

"Yeah seriously, dude, this isn't going to work. You get bad sleep when you're normal size and it really messes you up. Like that three-day binge of straight inventing? You were all feverish _then_. And now you've got a little turtle body." Mikey poked his brother in the forehead, frowning. "It's gonna mess with you a lot...more..."

Mikey trailed off, zeroing in on the glazed sheen to Donatello's eyes. The screwdriver dropped to the floor with Mikey's poke, and Donnie had to wave his arms to keep himself from tumbling over. Biting his lip, Mikey pressed his hand to Donnie's forehead again, eyes widening. Don's skin was hot to the touch, leaving pools of heat in the pads of Mikey's fingers. Mikey slid his hand down to Donatello's cheeks, heart skipping when he saw they were even darker than before, managing a red tint.

Swallowing hard, Mikey scooped up Donatello, who didn't protest. Didn't make a sound. Just stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, chest moving achingly slow. "Don? Donnie? Come on, bro, this isn't funny."

Panic kicked his heart to his throat and he carried Don to bed, cradling him in his arms. He wiped the sweat away with his hand, hovering his face over Don's. He tried to smile, eyes searching for recognition in Donatello's irises. Dull eyes searched above aimlessly, and Mikey couldn't hold back a whimper. "Donnie. Don. Donatello, come on. I-why didn't you stop if you were feeling this bad."

Raspy breath sent of wave of cold through Mikey and his hands began to tremble. Holding Donatello closer to his chest, he stood from the bed and took several deep breaths. "No more playing around. The others...they can help. They'll know what to do." Mikey paused, glancing back down at Donatello. His small, feverish body began to shake against Michelangelo, eyes finally closing. Don shuddered and pressed his face into Mikey's chest and Mikey shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Don."

Mikey burst from the room, making sure the door would slam against the wall and sound down the entire lair. He dodged its ricochet and ran down the hallway, shouting for Master Splinter and his brothers. Flicking on the switch to the living room, he hurried to the couch and laid Donatello on the cushions.

Donnie hardly stirred. Not when the door slammed, not when the light his eyes, not when Mikey shook him.

Mikey's heart sped up and he swallowed air, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "Guys! Guys! Come here, I need you! Come on!" More doors slammed open and Mikey could already hear Raphael's groggy voice snarling down the hallway. Michelangelo grabbed Donnie's small hand in his own, smiling for his brother. "You hear that? They'll come and know what to do and you'll be better in no time, right?" Mikey took a shuddering breath, trying to believe his own words.

"Mikey, this better be good or I'm gonna pound your head-" Raphael stopped short at the sight before him, his eyes going wide. Mikey stared right back at Raphael, still holding Donatello's hand as he tried to find his voice. Leonardo and Splinter came next, Leo tilting his head at Raphael's stillness.

"Raph?" Leo asked, moving beside his brother. Splinter came up behind him and all sets of eyes moved to Mikey and Donatello, Leo's and Splinter's soon mirroring Raphael's own stunned state.

Michelangelo just tightened his grip on Donatello's hand. "Guys...I-I'll explain. But, he's sick. He's got a bad fever and I-I don't know what to do for him!" His voice loud in the silent room, Michelangelo looked imploringly at his brothers and father, his stomach tightening into a hard ball of knots. Splinter was the first to break the trance, striding across the room and gently lifting Donatello.

"It's all right, my son. Let him go so I can look at him." Michelangelo slowly nodded and released Donnie's hand, eyes still firmly on his brother. Splinter held Don close to his chest, pressing his paw to his forehead. Eyes darkening at the heat bubbling through Donnie's skin, Splinter sat on the couch with Don still held close. "Raphael, fetch a bowl of cool water and a washrag. Leonardo, grab any spare blankets you can find. Michelangelo, retrieve the aspirin and a glass of water. When you return, I want you to find the first-aid kit as well."

The three disappeared after each order and returned just as quickly, Michelangelo taking slightly longer in his hunt for the first-aid kit. Splinter tilted Donnie's head up and popped the aspirin into his mouth, coaxing his son to drink the water and swallow. Splinter wiped the dribble of water from Don's mouth and nodded at Raphael, who dunked the rag into the bowl and wrung away the excess water, handing it to Splinter.

Donatello was placed on the couch again, the rag laid on his forehead and one blanket draped across his small body. Don groaned, shaking his head and sending the rag to the floor. "My son, you must have it to keep the fever down..." Splinter whispering, placing it on Donnie's head several more times until the feverish turtle's energy was spent and he left the rag alone. Chills tore through his small frame, face contorted in discomfort and pain and his cheeks rosy with fever. His breathing remained raspy and shallow, the slow and irregular rhythm steadily filling the quiet room.

Splinter turned to Michelangelo, who looked on with wide and fearful eyes. Mikey's hands were clenched at his sides and his eyes bright and wet. Splinter cleared his throat, startling Mikey from his trance and drawing his gaze. "Michelangelo, I need to know what happened. Why is Donatello-why is he young again? And this illness, what brought it about?"

Raphael and Leonardo nodded, silent as they studied Michelangelo, waiting for his answer. Mikey swallowed, rubbing his face. "I-I don't...I don't know why he's so sick, sensei. Earlier he had pink cheeks but-but it was nothing like this. I found him working on the machine and-"

"What machine?"

Mikey jumped, hand clamping over his mouth. But he quickly let his arm fall back to his side, nodding. "Earlier today, I went to see Leatherhead. But we got ambushed by some Kraang, and they tried to use this machine on Leatherhead. I told him Donnie would take a look at it and brought here. And Donnie-he was looking at, trying to figure what it did. But I-I kind of got impatient."

Mikey's voice was barely a whisper here, and Splinter leaned forward, resting a paw on Michelangelo's arm. "Right...sorry. But, I got impatient and wanted to know what it did. Donnie didn't agree and we kind of started struggling for it. And then-well...I hit a button..." Raphael smacked a hand to his forehead, but Mikey ignored him. "The next thing we knew, Donnie was the size of a tot and the machine was busted."

"And Donatello?" Splinter kept his voice even, but worry danced in his eyes. "What of him when this occurred?"

"Well...that's the weird thing. Even Donnie said so. He was the same old Don, aside from being little again. He was still smart and he could talk and everything. I mean, I still felt kind of stupid when he explained it, and he was younger than me, but-but that doesn't matter." Mikey shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "He said he'd have to try and fix it, but that he didn't have the right stuff. He said he'd try anyway...but...not to tell you guys."

Mikey looked around at his father and brothers. "I'm sorry, but he said I couldn't tell! That-that it was important he be left alone to figure it out and that-that he might get slowed down and..." Mikey took a shuddering breath, gritting his teeth. "But now look at him!"

Splinter was silent for a moment, gaze drifting back to Donatello. He watched Don's chest move up and down: slow, steady, and weak.

"S-sensei?"

"And he was still working when you found him?" Splinter asked eventually.

"Y-yeah. I was gonna send him to bed because, well, he's little and all-nighters aren't even good for him when he's normal but...but... It was so weird, sensei. He just kept working, even when I messed with him, but his eyes weren't really seeing it. Weren't really seeing me."

Mikey choked on the last part, jumping when Raphael's hand dropped onto his shoulder. Leonardo nodded at Mikey, walking toward the couch and kneeling beside Donatello. Mikey blinked when Leo leaned over and whispered something in Donnie's ear, grabbing Don's small hand in his own and sitting next to him. Mikey's chest clenched at the sight, the lost look in Leo's eyes leaving him cold.

"What do we do, sensei?" Leonardo asked, never taking his eyes off Donnie. He watched Don's shaky breathing, the puffs of breath hot and wet. Sweat trickled down Donnie's temples and when Leo's fingers brushed his forehead, searing his burned his skin. "He's so _sick_ and we don't even know why."

Splinter closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, focusing his mind. "Whatever is wrong with Donatello is undoubtedly tied to the device. Did he say anything about it, Michelangelo?"

Mikey nodded. "He had a few ideas, but he said he'd have to think about them, figure out what was more likely," he said hurriedly.

"And he said he'd need certain parts to fix the machine?" Michelangelo nodded again and Splinter looked toward Donatello, chest heavy. "There...there isn't much we can do until Donatello regains consciousness and speaks with us. Tells us what he thinks of this situation and machine."

"But we can't do nothing! Sensei, he's so-I mean, his breathing!" Raphael spluttered. "We can't just-"

Splinter's sharp eyes landed on Raphael. "There is not much we can do, but we will do everything we can until then. Do not mistake that. Michelangelo, you said this was a device of the Kraang and involved Leatherhead? Then perhaps we should bring Leatherhead here and work out a plan of action. He'll know more about the Kraang than anyone."

Michelangelo nodded vigorously, but his face fell. "Sensei...I don't know where Leatherhead went! He-we decided he should find somewhere safer in the sewers and I never asked him where he'd go!"

"Then we'll search. I have a feeling we'll need him for what comes next. If only certain parts will fix this device, I fear we'll be seeing more of the Kraang in the very near future. It's vital we get Leatherhead here so we are able to face them on equal footing. Rapahel."

Raphael stood a little straighter, nodding at Splinter. "You and Michelangelo will search the sewers for Leatherhead. Bring him here as soon as you can."

Raphael's eyes widened. "But, sensei, what about..." Raphael's eyes drifted to Leonardo, who looked just as surprised as Raph and Mikey.

"I have something else for him to do here. Please, Raphael, there is not time to-"

"Got it. We're off, sensei. Come on." Raphael grabbed Mikey's arm and led him away before he could utter a word, but Mikey kept glancing back at Donatello until he was out of sight. Leonardo turned to Splinter, eyes wide.

"S-sensei, why didn't you want me to go with them? I thought I-"

"I have several tasks for you as well, one of which I don't feel comfortable giving to anyone but you." Leonardo nodded, wishing he felt the sense of pride that usually followed such words.

His chest only tightened.

"I need you to go to April, tell her the situation, and see if she'll come here to assist. I do not doubt there will be times that we need something from the surface that only she can acquire. It's important, too, that she help me with treating Donatello. She'll be able to help with some of the more technical aspects of this situation."

Leonardo was already nodding, heart beating harder as Splinter moved to the next task. "This may make you...uncomfortable, but I also need you to look in Donatello's room. Recover this device and any notes he's made about it."

Leonardo swallowed. "You want me to look through his things?"

Splinter closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. A breach of privacy is...necessary to have the knowledge and materials we need to continue. I am sure when we explain to Donatello later, he will understand. However, I want you to look only for notes relating to this. Do not let your eyes linger."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Leonardo stood, squaring his shoulders. "I-I guess I should look through his room first. And you, sensei?"

"I will be tending to Donatello. This illness is unlike anything I've ever seen. I must watch him closely." Leonardo nodded, turning away and heading down the hall. He kept glancing back at Donnie, apologies flying in his head, as well as how he'd make it up to Donatello later.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Don?" he muttered under his breath. He paused in front of Donnie's room, the door still cracked open from Michelangelo's alarm call. Leonardo steeled himself and walked inside, gently closing the door behind him. His eyes immediately found the device, still hanging open with wires spilling out. "So Mikey stopped him in the middle of this?"

Leonardo picked the machine up, holding it close to his chest while his eyes roved Donnie's desk. Notebooks and papers littered both the desk and the floor around it, and Leonardo scooped up anything that seemed relevant. Sketches, notes on materials, notes and theories on how the device worked, how it didn't, what the symbols could mean.

Leonardo hardly understood half of what his eyes caught, but he stopped cold when he saw Don's writing get progressively sloppier as the notes went on. Stains and blotches marred the pages, and Leonardo narrowed his eyes. "What is this? I don't know..." And he found himself reading the next page, legs numbing.

_...Strange symptoms have started to occur. My body temperature is increasing at a rapid rate, but my heartbeat is irregular. Torn between slowing down and speeding up. I can't stop sweating. My hands won't stop shaking. _

_The Kraang really know how to mess a turtle up. _

_Nausea has been coming and going too, and all within the span of twelve hours. This...body...can't seem to keep up with the changes. But that can't be the only reason. It's not just because my body is trying to adjust. No... I think my other theory comes into play as well. The fact that my mental capacities remained unaffected after the 'event' (I'm __**never **__going to let Mikey live this one down!) points to the device malfunctioning. Or that the Kraang don't even know what they're doing. But I think they were trying to turn back the clock on Leatherhead. Make him the size he was when they found him, as detailed on page fifteen of these notes. If that's the case, they must have meant for his mental state to turn back as well. I have a feeling they were going to capture him again, retry the experiments they did before, but with new data. Try again and see what happens. _

_Trial and error._

_I'm glad they didn't get the chance. If what I saw of Leatherhead is any indication, the first time around left more than enough scars. But knowing their mistakes leaves room for them to make even bigger ones. Or succeed. _

_I'm not sure which would be worse. _

_But I don't think the Kraang realize the other error they made with this device. Considering that Leatherhead was likely exposed to the same mutagen as us (what else could explain his sentience?), attempting to use this device, working or not, would have terrible side effects. The way they try to manipulate the cells is incompatible with the mutagen's existing changes. The two will try to control and manipulate the same cells, effectively "going to war." The problem is, the host (it sounds like a parasite this way...) won't be able to handle it. The body will begin to breakdown as the cells tear themselves apart, unable to sustain the multiple and conflicting changes._

_I'm worried that's what happening with me, too. The same mutagen, the same problem. The only good thing about all this is that I'm still mentally capable. I shudder at the thought of the others trying to figure this out on their own. If all they saw was a sick, toddler me, I don't know if they'd be able to see past it. Mikey might be able to explain, but what then? _

_It's getting harder to write. My hands are shaking even harder than before. I feel like throwing up and passing out. And I tried to ask Mikey for some coffee earlier but he said no! It's hard enough trying to hide this from him too... If he sees, he'll tell the others. No doubt about it. I don't want that. Not yet. I need to get closer to the solution. I need to figure this out before I turn this over to them. _

_My head hurts too. I wonder if the mental deterioration is only a delayed effect, and the headaches are the onset? But that doesn't seem right. The migraines, while painful and distracting, don't seem to dampen my thought processes. It may just be another symptom of my body's breakdown. _

_My body is breaking down. _

_Is that just another way to say I'm dying? It sounds more detached when I write it that way. But it still sounds the same. It sounds like I'm dying. _

_I'm scared. _

_I need to work on the device some more. Even if I can decode the symbols, it does me no good if it doesn't work. _

_And it needs to work. _

_I'm starting to doubt the materials I have on hand will be able to fix it. I may have to tell the others sooner than I thought. _

_I have to stop for now. My hands can't keep steady. I'll inspect the machine some more, and come back with a tentative list of the materials I need._

Leonardo stared at the note for what seemed like hours. His eyes were blank. Flat. He added the pages to the rest of the notes and grabbed whatever else seemed relevant. He returned to Splinter and laid it out on the coffee table, saying he was off to get April before his father could get a word in. He didn't look at Splinter's face, knowing his eyes would betray what's he'd just read.

And once he was in the sewer tunnel, sure know one could see or hear him, he punched the wall. Slammed his knuckles into the brick and swore so much he could make Raphael proud. He choked on words and stifled his breathing and threw his fists at the wall, over and over until he broke the skin.

"_My body is breaking down."_

Then he slammed both hands on the wall, shaking his head. "Don. _Donnie_, why didn't you tell us? We could have helped you sooner. We could have done something. _I _could have done something." Leonardo hit the wall with the palms of his hands, the blows weak.

"Why? Why? _Why?_" Leonardo muttered, shoulders shaking.

"_I'm scared."_

Leonardo wiped the worry from his face. Forced back the anger and the fear, leaving his eyes clear and focused. He clenched and unclenched his hands and hurried up the nearest manhole, April's address swimming in his mind. He wiped all other thoughts and words away.

All but Donatello's.

"_It sounds like I'm dying."_


End file.
